Biomega isn't a series that should be read about, its one that should be seen. That's how aesthetically-driven of a comic it is, and how completely idiosyncratic it is as a representation of the mind of its insane author, Tsutomu Nihei. Despite this, however, I'm gonna make something about it that is designed to be read, because its not like I have much of anything else to do. Seriously, though: my first recommendation to anyone wondering whether or not to read Biomega is to look at the pictures, and if you love them, read it. However, even if your mind is blown initially, you may still be disappointed in the end if you expect this series to adhere to any normally held standards of quality.

If I had to describe Biomega in one phrase, it would be "a beautiful mess." This has two meanings in my mind. First, its an utter mess of a manga that happens to be very beautiful. Second, and more importantly, though, it is a work that's beauty largely is derived from its messiness. In broad strokes, Biomega's plot is about its initial setting, Earth, destroying itself in an icky, gooey, action-packed apocalypse and being reborn as something else, a new celestial body of confusion, mystery, and beauty, all of which are completely inexplicable and impossible to understand. Yet as a metanarrattive as well, Biomega itself echoes these themes, because its progression as a story in and of itself is one where its initial premise and all included logic are destroyed in an icky, gooey, action-packed cascade of images, and are reborn in the form of an entirely different manga for no real discernible reason. Biomega isn't a story with a beginning, middle, and end; it is more of a continuous downward spiral, where its world, characters, and images become stranger, more confusing, and far more interesting along the way. It starts as an extremely linear action piece, but if you read it expecting it to stay that way, you will be sorely disappointed. If you expect insanity, though, I think you will leave satisfied.

Read the first volume of Biomega, its hard to not compare it with Nihei's first serialized manga and what many consider to be his magnum opus, BLAME(!). Blame also is hardly a typical or fully coherent story, but the presentation of its setting, a massive, solar-system-sized non-euclidean cyber-city built by sinister post-humans and being explored by two silent immortal cyborgs, is at first glance a lot more creative. The City of Blame is meticulously detailed, atmospheric, and inhuman, while the similar city which Biomega starts off in is far smaller, less ambitious, less well-drawn, and still inhabited by humans. At its outset, Biomega is a serviceable zombie apocalypse story set in this city, with its only major distinguishing feature being its ambitious and technically proficient action scenes, which are far better than the often difficult to follow fights in Blame. Other than that, Biomega seems pretty boring in comparison to Nihei's previous resume, and this, I think, is what leads a lot of people to drop it, and which has led Biomega to rarely be included in discussion of Nihei's best works because of this.

Keep reading, though, you'll find that Nihei himself agreed. After a change in magazines following the release of volume 1, which included a shift from weekly to monthly publication and a commensurate skyrocketing of art quality, Biomega becomes a different beast entirely, grotesquely morphing into some of the most balls-to-the-wall action insanity in the medium of manga as a whole. No longer is the main conflict a zombie outbreak caused by some vaguely Umbrella-like corporation, but instead it becomes a plot to turn...the world into...biological goo(?) so it can be reborn...or something, orchestrated by immortal psychic cyborgs battling each other from imposing cyberpunk monoliths that loom over the surface of the increasingly disfigured planet once known as Earth. There's eygasmically deformed monsters, brilliantly-paneled fights, and an utterly epic battle featuring the main characters riding a super-motorcycle vertically up the exterior of a space elevator while fighting off a plantlike stalk of flesh emerging from the planet hundreds of miles below. This is in volume 4 out of 6. The earth is destroyed, there's a bunch of shit that makes the Akira movie seem coherent by comparison, and then you're left wondering how the rest of the series could possibly end. Well...

The last two volumes take place in a different setting where everything looks different and where thousands of years have passed without our protagonist's knowledge. What started as a cyberpunk action romp becomes a high fantasy epic set on a string-shaped world whose scenery looks like if Nihei's, HR Giger's, and Yoshitaka Amano's artstyles all fucked and had a premature harlequin baby. Random, bizarre new characters are introduced, about 20 Vaati videos worth of lore are hinted at and dismissed, and literally thousands of years pass, all in the span of TWO SHORT VOLUMES. Its mind altering. For some it could be maddening. Yet somehow, in the upside-down universe Nihei has taken us to, it almost works. In a way, Biomega represents everything that I love about what Nihei, and manga in general, is capable of. Because its all possible only through Nihei's incredible visual creativity and technical mastery. In Biomega, the unpolished architectural brilliance of Blame and the sketchy darkness of its own early chapters give way to some of the richest, smoothest, most detailed, and most simultaneously transcendent and disturbing black-and-white art I've ever seen. Composition is masterful, action paneling flows effortlessly, and every page contains new, unearthly visual delights.

The middle section of the series is completely unhinged action, but the final two volumes, as borderline incoherent as they are, contain so many unorganized fantasy ideas that they seem practically bursting at the seams with Newtype-level psychic creativity. The barriers between flesh and metal, between artbook and comic, between brain and body, between bad storytelling and alien genius begin to disturbingly melt unto each other, eroding into hyper-detailed manga goop more and more with each turn of the page. This manga may seem perfect if you like oddball designs and intense, hyper-violent action, yet it will disappoint you if you want it to be bound to those things exclusively. Biomega is a bizarre aesthetic experience that pushes the boundaries of manga itself in all the right ways and all the wrong ways, all at once, yet push those boundaries it does. And in way, it embodies perfectly one of the most unique aspects of the intensely author-driven medium of manga--the chaotic creativity that comes with a brilliant artist ascribing logic to his flow of aesthetic ideas that fundamentally lacks any. Weirdness, grossness, worldbuilding, artistic prowess, all purely for its own indulgent sake. That's Nihei, that's art, that's manga.